Little Arguments Between Lovers and Friends
by SomeKindOfRomance
Summary: Separate stories about arguments between the boys.. Includes SLASH and non slash... mostly slash though..
1. Stan Makes Sense

_Most relationships consist of arguments. Here is the first chapter in my little fic. They are all separate stories, some of which include slash.. or most of which, I mean._

**Little Arguments Between Lovers and Friends**

**_1. Stan Makes Sense_**

"Duck billed platypusses lay eggs, so therefore, they are not mammals."

"Then what are they Stan? Reptiles?"

"No!"

I was amazed at how much of a football player Stan was. He really knew nothing about anything. Our arguments had become increasingly pointless, boring, stupid, and would sometimes result in us not talking for days. Not my idea of a relationship.

I looked at Stan, incredulously, hoping that the light in his head would flicker at some point.

"Kyle... just because they have warm blood, doesn't make them mammals."

"Ok, Jeff Corwin, you've got my attention, explain further."

"Fuck you... anyways, have you ever thought that maybe they make up an entirely different category of animals all on their own? Maybe it hasn't been thought of yet. I mean, we have birds, reptiles, mammals... and... other classifications."

I was impressed. He was whipping out the big words. "You bring about an interesting point."

"I know I do, which is why duck billed platypusses are not mammals."

I laughed at Stan's stupidity, completely amused by his determination to prove his point. "You know, Stan... Go online... google or some shit and-"

"I always ask Jeeves."

"Ok, then ask Jeeves. I'm sure all of the pages that turn up say that the duck billed platypus is a mammal. It's a proven fact. Let's think about this... It's your theories against some of the world's most reknowned scientists. I mean, think about it... Who are people gonna believe? A hick boy from South Park, Colorado, or Charles Darwin?"

"Personally, I would believe the hick."

"Of course. Well, alright Stan. If you believe sooooo strongly that a duck billed platypus isn't a mammal, then why don't you let me do the project myself?"

"Because I wanna get the truth out there."

"Ok, so then you write your own little report, ok? When we present them tomorrow, you will look like a dumbass."

"FINE!"

Stan slammed my door shut and ran out of my house, determined to prove me wrong. What a stubborn asshole.

-

"Ok class, please ready your presentations." The teacher walked to the head of the classroom, ready to choose people to read their reports. "Butters and Clyde, how about you two go first?"

The two boys complied and headed to the teacher's desk.

"Ahem," Clyde cleared his throat. "Butters and myself did our project ringworms and tapeworms."

"Yea, they're g-gross little critters. They get into your skin and such and feed off your body. Some even live in-in your intestines."

I looked over to Stan. He looked like he was about to barf.

"What's the matter Stan? You got a tapeworm in your belly?" I teased.

"Sick dude." He clutched at his stomach and put his head on the desk.

"Some lady in Utah had a tapeworm, eight feet long in her intestines. She ate some kind of oriental chicken and it came from there. She said she was going to the bathroom and it was all hanging out and stuff, and she had to pull it out.. It took forever. They have it in a laboratory somewhere."

"Ok, boys, enough!" The teacher looked like she was about to be sick as well. "Good job, you may be seated."

"But, we haven't even started on ringworms," Butters protested.

"You get an A, now sit down."

Clyde looked thrilled. He must've done this on purpose, knowing the teacher would be grossed out. Smart son of a bitch.

"Kyle and Stan, do you have a presentation for me?"

"Well, you see Miss Horne," I began, "Stan and I both have contrasting ideas about the topic, so we decided to do the report in our own perspectives."

Miss Horne raised an eyebrow, skeptically. "Well then, alright. Kyle, you may begin."

I made my way up to the head of the classroom, ready to put Stan in his place.

"The platypus is one of the two animals in the order Monotremata. It is the only member of the mammal family Ornithorhynchidae. Platypus is from the Greek platys meaning broad and pous meaning foot, referring to the animal's webbed foot. The platypus has several reptilian characteristics which include using the same opening for reproduction and eliminating waste products, the ability to lay eggs, cervical ribs, and local ascorbic acid synthesis in the kidney. Even though the platypus has these reptile characteristics, it is overall much more mammalian than reptilian. This unique animal has a lifespan of 10 to 15 years and-"

"Ok, Stan are you ready for your report?"

"I wasn't even done!"

Stan walked up beside me. "Your big words are boring and meaningless," he whispered. "She'll love mine. Prepare to be wowed."

I sat down, and did in fact prepare myself.

"The duck billed platypus is not a mammal." He looked over at me and gave a sly smile before continuing. "It lays eggs. I don't care what all the hoity-toity scientists say, because they are wrong. I mean come on! They lay eggs! Enough said."

The whole class began to applaud. Miss Horne started going crazy.

"Stanley Marsh, that makes the most sense out of anything I have ever heard about the duck billed platypus! I am very impressed. You may sit down."

Stan brushed past me. "Told you so," he said with a smug look on his face.

"You get an A, Stanley."

"What about me?"

"Oh... You got a C. Good effort. Try not to sound too sophisticated next time."

I was floored, shocked, dumbfounded. I worked my ass off and for what? For a lousy C.

I looked over to Stan, wanting to see his reaction. All I got was a shit eating grin, accompanied with the words, "I won this round."


	2. The 'Coming Out' Dinner

_A/N: If anyone has any ideas about pointless arguments, feel free to tell me, I'd be more than happy to use them._

**2. The 'Coming Out' Dinner**

"Let's face it, they're never gonna accept us."

"Kyle, dude, you're being irrational. Of course they're gonna accept us. They love us, no?"

"I guess."

"And they've always told us that they'd support us no matter what, right?"

"Yea, but I don't think they were talking about being gay."

"I know, but... Nothing's gonna go wrong tonight. I guarantee it."

"How so?"

"I have my special 'Stan Juice' on tap."

"Stan juice? Are you referring to a love shot from your baby maker, because if so, I don't think my parents are gonna go for sucking you off."

"Kyle, Kyle, please." Stan walked over to the redhead seated at the dining room table and put a hand on his shoulder. "Kyle, 'Stan Juice' is a special concoction I whipped up during my bartending days. It's a very alcoholic drink, with little to no alcoholic taste."

"My parents don't drink."

"They wont be able to taste the alcohol. We'll just give them enough to loosen them up. They'll be sure to accept us."

"Stan, no way. No way in hell!" Kyle got up from his seat and stood so that his eyes were level with his boyfriend's. "That's manipulation, Stan. Mind rape. I don't want you mind raping my parents! Where are your morals?"

"They've gone on vacation for the time being."

"Well, they better come back. We're doing this without manipulation, is that clear?"

"Yes master... geez."

Stan watched Kyle walk away in a huff. He was quite angry that his lover wrote off his idea without giving it any thought. "Unbelievable," he said aloud to himself. He got on his knees and opened up the liquor cabinet underneath the sink. "Let's see.. some Tequila, Bacardi Limon... Heh, they're gonna get smashed." He got to his feet and put the alcohol on the kitchen counter. "Get ready to taste my sweet juices, Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski."

-

Kyle finished preparing the salad and put it on the table, in addition to his famous pasta. "Ma loves my pasta," he bragged to Stan. And the way to a woman's heart is with food."

"No, that's the way to a man's heart," Stan corrected.

"Not with my Ma. Have you seen her? Since the last three years she's put on over 50 pounds."

"It's apparent."

"So, she'll be in a good mood, while chowing down on my pasta."

"That's mind rape," Stan said, mocking Kyle. "You're manipulating your mother."

"It's different," Kyle defended.

"And how is it?"

"Because, I'm not impairing her judgement."

"As if I was going to!"

"You were. Alcohol impairs peoples' judgement. You should know that, Mr. Bartender."

"Former Mr. Bartender, thank you."

"You know what? That's probably why you took that job anyway... to hook up with men."

"Just because I was bartending in a gay bar doesn't mean-"

"Bullshit!"

"Ok, Kyle, you're seriously starting to piss me off here. So what if I dated men from the bar? We weren't together at the time."

"Just set the table," Kyle ordered. "They're gonna be here any minute."

"Alright, anything you say, 'Overlord Kyle.'"

Stan pulled out a bunch of silverware and threw it onto the table. "Just set the table Stan... Do this Stan... Do that Stan..." He finished setting up the places and walked back into the kitchen to get the 'punch.'

"Stan, they're here!" Kyle walked nervously up to the door and opened it slowly. "Ma, Dad! Good to see you!" He ushered them in and took off their coats. "Supper's on the table. It's my world famous pasta, along with a lovely caesar salad."

"Sounds good buhbie," his mother said with a smile. "I can't wait. I haven't had your pasta in a long time." She rubbed her over-sized belly and licked her lips. "Doesn't it smell good in here Gerald?"

"Yea, wonderful." Mr. Broflovski seemed less than thrilled to be there. It was quite obvious in his facial expressions. Kyle sensed this and hurried his father to a chair. "Sit, dig in."

Mr. Broflovski put a heap of pasta on a plate and Mrs. Broflovski soon followed suit.

"Got anything to drink Kyle?" his father asked.

"Uh yea.. Stan? Can you bring in the punch?"

"Mhm."

Stan walked into the kitchen and picked up the pitcher of red colored liquid. "Showtime," he whispered to himself as he wasked back into the diningroom.

"Oh wonderful!" Mrs. Broflovski exclaimed, as soon as she saw the juice. "May I have some?"

"Certainly." Stan walked over and poured the red headed woman more than enough.

"Thank you dear."

"Give some to my father, Stan."

Stan did as he was told and poured some for Mr. Broflovski as well.

"Thanks."

Stan sat down with a smile and watched his boyfriend's parents chug their drinks. This was truly going to be quite the night to come out.

-

After there was no more juice, pasta or salad, the four adults moved into the livingroom.

Kyle watched, horrified as his mother and father stumbled onto the couch. He took Stan aside, angrily and pushed him against the wall adjacent to the livingroom.

"What the hell did you give them?" He demanded.

"Fruit punch," Stan said, innocently.

"Fruit punch my ass!"

"Alright, alright... I added a bit of alcohol."

"God, Stan! I thought we discussed this earlier!"

"No, we didn't discuss it. You made up your mind, and that was the end of it. I had no say."

"That's not true!"

"Is so, and you know it. There's nothing we can do about it now, anyway. What's done is done. So we're gonna go back into that room, and get this over with."

"God damn you Stan."

"Come on." Stan grabbed the other man by the hand and dragged him into the livingroom. Apon entering, Stan threw up and Kyle dry heaved at the sight.

"Ew! MOM, DAD!" Kyle clawed at his eyes, in the aftermath of seeing his parents humping eachother. "Stop, get a room. EWWW. See Stan, this is what happens when you give them alcohol."

Stan let out another round of puke on the floor. "Oh geez Kyle, I'm sorry." He cleared his throat and walked up to the couple, humping on the couch. "Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski... Sheila... Gerald..." He paused, searching for the right words. "Kyle and I are.. in love. We are in a relationship together... We-"

"That's nice boys," Gerald interrupted. "Can you leave the room please?"

Both boys grimaced at the request and ran out of the room as fast as they could.

"This is all your fault Stan."

"I know, but there's nothingwe can do now."

"Yes there is. You are sleeping on _that_ couch tonight."

"I'm gonna need to make myself some punch first."

Stan headed into the kitchen in defeat, ready to get plastered beyond belief. The only way he was gonna sleep on that couch was if he passed out on it.


End file.
